A leopard can't change his spots
by snoozie2105
Summary: JJ/Rossi. Please read and review!


_**Author's note: This is just a one-shot that I wrote in a hurry – please let me know what you think, with a review or a PM, and if you'd like to see it continued somehow...I'm not sure if it's best as a one-shot or could lead into a longer fic. Many, many thanks to Michele, "my pardner," my sounding board, and best writing buddy. You rock! **_

"A leopard can't change his spots. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

Her words, spoken softly, and with genuine regret, echoed in his mind, and not even the three Scotches he'd downed in the hour since she'd left him alone at the bar eased the physical pain he felt deep inside.

She had blindsided him. He hadn't seen it coming.

This had been the weekend that David Rossi was going to whisk Jennifer Jareau away to a small bed and breakfast in Charlottesville, the weekend that he was going make sure she understood that he loved her and wanted to be with her, the weekend he was sure she would finally say that she loved him and wanted to be with him too.

As he motioned for the bartender to bring him another drink, he tried to recall any hints she might have given that she didn't return his feelings, hints he may have completely ignored or recognized yet dismissed as silly anxieties about their office romance, but try as he might, he couldn't.

She wasn't the type to string someone along just for the fun of it or to be in a relationship just for the sex, but once upon a time, he had been that type of man, and now he was paying the price. Was it karma? Was it just what he had coming to him?

If he'd known this way back when, he would've lived his life differently. That much was certain. He would've said a polite no to the bevy of beauties who were wowed by a real, honest-to-God FBI agent, and offered one-night stands, nothing more, nothing less, propositions that suited him at the moment.

~*~

When he arrived at the bar, she was waiting for him, sipping a glass of whiskey and looking uncomfortable. He should've known something was up then; she only drank whiskey when she needed to calm her nerves, and he knew her looks – he'd spent enough time studying them.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted her, his lips close to her ear. "Waiting on someone special?"

"Dave!" She spun around on her barstool and offered him a shaky smile. "As a matter of fact, I am – you."

"Hotch caught me as I was leaving – he wanted to talk about the Daniels case," he explained. "I would've called – "

"It's okay," she interrupted. "I've been here ten minutes, maybe, so no, I haven't been waiting long. I told the bartender you'd want a Scotch when you got here."

"That's my girl," he grinned, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You ready for this weekend? I'm thinking we'll hit the road around ten, take our time getting there...."

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath as the bartender set his drink in front of him then moved on to other patrons. "About this weekend..." she began.

He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip as he glanced at her. "I know you didn't want the team to know we're going away together, but they'll figure us out sooner or later, if they haven't already, and besides...I don't want us to be a secret. _I love you_," he said emphatically. "I want to shout it from the rooftops."

She smiled again, sadly this time. "It isn't that."

"Then what is it?" He caught her chin with his index finger and made her look at him. "You can tell me – whatever it is, I'll understand."

"I don't think you will," she replied, her voice cracking, her eyes filling with tears. "I've been trying to think of an easy way to do this, but for the life of me I can't, so I might as well just come right out and tell you...tell you before it's too late."

"Tell me what?" he asked uneasily, doubt, for the first time, creeping in. He could take a lot, but not seeing her cry or hearing her hesitancy.

She looked down at her hands, then back at him. "Tell you that I won't be going away with you this weekend."

He blinked and shook his head; maybe this was a dream – she wasn't making sense. When they'd planned this weekend, she'd been excited, eager to get away from the prying eyes of the BAU and god-awful cases. "Why?"

"Because I can't do this." She sighed heavily, then went on. "I can't keep pretending like we're okay when we're not."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us...I love you, Dave, I truly do, but I can't get past your playboy reputation...I just know that one day, we're going to wake up, and you're going to leave me for someone else, or worse, cheat on me. I can't and won't subject myself to that."

"Jennifer," he growled, his heart rate and blood pressure increasing as he realized what she was getting at, "we've talked about this – I've told you – you're the only woman I want, the only woman I need, and I'm not the same person I was. I _want_ to be tied to one person. I _want_ to be tied to you."

"Maybe," she allowed, "but what about the future?"

"I love you now and I'll love you then," he argued desperately. "Please, Jennifer, don't do this – don't hold my past against me."

"Why shouldn't I?" she retorted. "I see the looks you get and the looks you give. A leopard can't change his spots. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. You say you've changed, but I can't trust that you have, can't trust that you won't break my heart!"

Her confession shook him to his core. She did love him. She did want to be with him. But she wasn't willing to risk her heart. "You've made up your mind, haven't you?" he asked, somber, defeated.

"Yes," she nodded. "I have. And I'm sorry. I am. Because I think we had a good thing going."

"We can keep it going – just give me a chance," he begged. "Please. I promise you, you won't regret it...."

~*~

In the end, his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Her determination was one of the qualities he loved most about her, he had to admit, but he never thought she'd turn her determination on him.

"A leopard can't change his spots. You can't teach an old dog new tricks," he murmured to himself as the Scotch burned its way down his throat and into his stomach. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was wrong. He didn't know. He only knew that life as he knew it was over. And he had only himself to blame.


End file.
